Against Translation Snobbery

I need to admit something embarrassing right off the bat: like most Americans, I am not fluent in a second language. This is even more embarrassing given my field of study, where I am often working with historical texts originally written in languages other than English (I keep most of my work to English language thinkers for a reason). The mark of a truly excellent scholar in my field is someone who has the facility with languages to read the texts in the original language, and perhaps even render their own translations. Me, I have a passable understanding of some conversational German, and with a lexicon and other tools I can fumble my way through a bit of Greek if necessary, but I could not satisfy a written proficiency exam in either if handed one immediately. I hope to correct this soon by taking some intensive coursework in both, but I thought before I tell you what you ought to think about texts in translation that I should lay my cards on the table and tell you I’m wildly unqualified to write this essay.

But write it I shall, because opinions require no expertise to publish these days (thank you, Substack). In short, my argument is that for most of us, when reading texts in translation, it does not pay to take the time to be a translation snob. While there are some basic considerations you should take into account, if you are buying a text from a reputable publisher, you don’t need to stress about your translation.

Many people are very finicky about their translations. “You’re using the Penguin edition? How quaint. Real appreciators of this text use the Such and Such translation from Ancient University Press ($89.99 in paperback).” Some people are even straightforwardly snobbish about them, and will be positively giddy if they can correct your error at enjoying an unapproved version. If you don’t believe me, peruse Reddit for examples of people asking which translation of a text to use. The snobs are out in full force against those who suggest sub-par translations in the comments.

Don’t get me wrong, some translations are better, some worse. Some are famously bad, some are controversial because of the translator’s views outside of the work, and some are just hard to get through because of their translation choices. Russian-reading friends have told me, for example, that the Pevear-Volokhonsky translations of the works of Dostoevsky suffer from some severe issues, and they recommend alternatives. Some people complain about recent translations of Homer, and there are those (including a certain famous cranky Orthodox writer) who would be disgusted by the fact that I assign Allan Bloom’s translation of the Republic in my political theory classes rather than one more traditionally approved by classicists.

Some of these metrics of “better” or “worse” have to do with faithfulness to the original text, awareness of nuances of language from historical periods, clarity for modern English audiences, or faithfulness to (or willingness to depart from) traditional renderings. Some of the issues have to do with which version of the original text is being used; older translations may work from flawed manuscripts, while newer translations might work from reconstructed or critical manuscripts that may improve upon what previous scholars had access to.

None of these debates are irrelevant, particularly if you are doing scholarship. It is helpful to know what scholars in your field consider a reliable translation, and it’s helpful to know what debates happen around the translation of major texts. I’ve also found it a great joy to read translator’s introductions and to learn a bit about the various translation philosophies (readers from certain Christian traditions sometimes have a bit of an advantage here, as they have likely been introduced to the range of philosophies of translation in some form as they parse what version of the Bible to make use of in devotional life).

But if you’re just picking up a text for your own use, particularly those texts often called “Great Books,” for self-education or enjoyment or what have you, simply reading the text you have on hand is often the best choice. Far be it from me to recommend people limit the number of books they acquire, but an endless search for a pure, perfect, best translation will leave one frustrated and bogged down by endless options. For most of us, this time could be better spent just reading the text itself in whatever form we can access it.

Again, comparing translations can be quite useful, and especially for “great” texts that you revisit many times over the years, reading them against one another could be worth the time if you have it. This post was partially inspired by a currently-running reading group over at Commonplace Philosophy and the comments there about the first couple books of Plato’s Republic. Why, for example, does C.D.C. Reeve, in his translation of Plato’s Republic, sometimes translate ho theos, literally “the god,” as “gods”? Why does Allan Bloom, in his translation of the same, maintain the singular specific “The god”? They both have their reasons! Neither choice, however, will render the text inaccessible to a non-Greek-possessing reader, and neither choice will alter the essence of the text. Whichever translation you pick up and read, you will have more understanding of Plato after reading it than you did before. Isn’t that the goal?

I get the impression from browsing some of those reddit threads I mentioned previously that some people care more about their knowledge of translations than they do their knowledge of the text, and this to me seems a distraction. Without intending to squash the curiosity of those seeking out the difference between bad, better, and best translations, I would just encourage you to get whatever is reliably available, affordable for your needs, and most importantly will get you reading.

To that end, just a couple recommendations: avoid mass-produced, thrifty versions of public domain texts published by major bookstores (this includes Kindle versions). These books, if they are translated works, will use older, freely available translations of mixed quality or accessibility. There may be good reasons to read old translations rather than new (George Chapman's Homer and Longfellow’s Dante are both remarkable works of English literature in their own right), but sifting through archaisms will complicate things. Instead, look to other inexpensive options with reliable scholarly translations. Hackett is frequently a good bet for this. Used Hackett paperbacks can be found inexpensively new or used, and they are a wonderful balance of quality and price.

None of this should be construed as derisive towards those who have preferred translations. And certainly all respect to those who, unlike me, have mastery of multiple languages and can read with the original text in hand and a more critical eye. Teachers and casual readers alike can prefer certain translations for whatever reason, and you should listen to their reasons. I’m simply suggesting that stressing about translation should be low on your priority list compared to actually picking up texts and beginning to read. If, like many, you find in those texts new friends you will spend the rest of your life with, finding a new translation will be an adventure all its own. Happy reading.